


Where Did All the Time Go?

by Power_of_Alchemy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anthro, F/M, Human, Snow, Survivial, canine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Power_of_Alchemy/pseuds/Power_of_Alchemy
Summary: A world of endless snow is thrown into question when it’s only inhabitant discovers an odd, nearly-dead creature in the cold.
Kudos: 1





	Where Did All the Time Go?

The harsh snowstorm pricked needles into Alton’s face as he continued to trudge through the thick snow. All he carried under his thick pelts were a few knives, a compass, and some smaller pelts he would use as pouches to keep his findings in. All he needed for his trip out into the wilderness. The journey made every few days to look for food and scavenge for any other necessities, mostly wood. Despite the danger, he also felt he would lose his sanity if he stayed huddled in the small cave he called home. 

The storm came down harder than usual, he couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him. Though, slogging through the perpetual snowstorm provided more stimulation than staying in the empty grey walls of his cave. The snow didn’t stop, but it didn’t stay around either. Where it went, Alton didn’t know. He would think about the snow for days at a time. Sometimes for a week straight, but he couldn’t come to any conclusion. It was all he would think about at this point. He’d been stuck in this sub-zero anomaly for years, and since forgotten the grassy plains of his valley homeland, and the crystal-clear waters of the river down the hill, and the small forest a few miles away…

It was all grey fuzz in his mind now. A vague recollection of his past life being replayed every few days. A result of the endless amount of times he had forgotten and remembered the time before the snow. He grew numb to it. The years of isolation, the years of fear of getting lost in the snow, and the years of almost dying in the endless icy bedding, he grew to accept it all. That was his life, and if he was going to die there, so be it. At that point, he was only prolonging the inevitable. For what reason, he did not know. 

He continued his trek forward. The journey aimed for a forest a few hours from his cave-home, a forest he had seen many times. Even with no signs that he was going anywhere, his mind had memorized this exact pathway. His eyes had burned a permanent image of the foggy snow storm into his mind. The movement of his limbs felt like clockwork and didn’t dare to diverge from the path. Each step of his old boots into the deep snow left temporary tracks. By the time he would start his journey back, they would have disappeared completely. A quick glance around him revealed no signs of his destination, but he knew he was close. With a deep breath, he continued onward. All he saw in his limited vision was snow. Bleak, white snow. He had grown past the monotonous sight of it all. Now he was losing his time to it. Looking at it for hours at a time, for days on end. What else can he do? Die in the endless, white hell? 

What good would that do? 

He didn’t know why he didn’t try that. It would be a simple escape, but he just couldn’t bring himself to try it. Was it a fear of the snow, or a fear of death? He couldn’t figure it out. He asked that question every day, but he could never get a straightforward answer, even after his perpetual mental arguments.

It didn’t take long for the forest to come into view. Plain, stagnant pine trees for as far as the eye could see. In an excited burst of energy, he ran towards the wooded area. It’s something he usually did when he saw the forest. He didn’t know why, might be it being something different from the tundra storm or the dark cave. Or it might be because it was the destination. The afternoon sky brought foggy light down on the trees from high above the storm. It made for the most beautiful scenery possible in this place. Maybe that was why he liked it. It makes for a break from the same repetitive sights he grew used to, and something to give his eyes stimulation. Even if he has seen the woods for years, he never grew tired of it. It made for one of the few places that brought a difference in his bleak life. 

He walked towards a familiar scarred tree. It became the one tree he recognized every trip here. He took out a knife and carved a simple vertical line next to the many other marks of his past trips. It started as a waymark to help him not get lost, but it grew into a sort of tradition for him. He never questioned why he continued to do it, he added the mark and never asked why. He continued on deeper into the forest. The goal was to find food, which wasn’t very difficult to locate. It’s littered everywhere, so he didn’t expect to go very far, but before he could continue any further, he locked onto a ruffled patch of snow. It’s a patch that he had never acknowledged previously. A patch left untouched since before his time. 

Fresh blood lay splattered on the patch. 

His heart rate quickened at the sight. His legs weakened, and his own blood drained from his face. He felt nauseous. The sight of the gruesome scene caused him to fall to his knees. It was only a small pool of blood, he’d never seen such a sight in his years in this place. The crimson liquid burned into his eyes. He hated it, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It became the center of his attention. As if all the snow and the fog and the trees had completely disappeared, and all that remained was the red stain on the ground. As he looked closer, he noticed the blood trailed deeper into the forest. Alton swallowed back the bile that built up in his throat and got up. His legs felt brittle as he attempted to regain composure. He attempted to get up, only succeeding in stumbling back against a tree and letting the nausea overwhelm him. He stood there, leaning against the tree, waiting out the intense queasiness. After a few minutes of deep breaths, he staggered away from the trunk and followed the crimson trail.

It went on for what felt like hours. The trail ebbed and flowed between a few droplets to large splotches on the snow. Every few steps he had to stop to suppress his growing anxiety at what the trail could lead to. Sick as he might be, he pressed on. The freezing-cold storm had long since left his mind and was replaced by paranoid thoughts of the bloodstains. As he walked up to the end of the blood, his eyes came to an indescribable sight. An odd white mass laid in the snow. Alton would’ve missed it if the blood didn’t trail up and pool around it. His heart beat even faster as he ran up to the unmoving lump. He stood and stared a few feet away as his body seized up in a panic, fearing whatever it might be alive and aggressive. He waited a few minutes, no movement. Nothing. He slowly crept up to it and raised his shaking index finger to graze across it. No reaction. Not even a twitch. It had an odd furry texture, soaked from all the snow and blood. A few more prods, and Alton concluded it was likely dead, or in some comatose state, or never alive in the first place. With that knowledge, he grabbed it and turned it over. Delicately, as to not wake up or damage it.

What came into sight was bizarrely frightening. Difficult to see, as the ice white fur blended almost perfectly into the snow, but he made out the vague shape. It looked somewhat human. A bloodied, furred human, but a human. The defined shape of a human ended as Alton’s eyes moved up to its head. The ears were rounded and mammalian, and sat on the top of its head, and its face extended into a snout. A large, barely visible tail-like appendage lay still between its legs. The sight of the blood covering the humanoid made his stomach churn slightly as the sight burned a permanent memory into his brain. His mind flooded with thoughts on what to do with it. Foremost: check for a heartbeat. He gingerly brought his hand up to its neck and pressed a few of his fingers to its neck and felt around for a sign of life. The fluff, even when wet, was deeper than he thought it would be. His fingers sunk deep into the fluff before he felt its actual neck. His heavy shaking and lightheaded feeling made it difficult to focus on the task.

His heart leapt into his throat as he felt a faint, rhythmic beat amidst the dank neck fluff. He snapped his hand back and leapt away, and his mind flooded with a million different thoughts about the odd beast. The blood, the body, the pulse. It all made his stomach twist again. Try as he might, he couldn’t hold it back. He fell to the ground sloppily and emptied his stomach onto the snow. The fresh bile seeped into the ground as he coughed the last bits of it out. He rolled onto his back and laid there for a few minutes, refusing to look at the ground around him and instead try to calm himself down. He kept his eyes closed, and he took a few deep breaths to regain composure. 

In…

Out.

In…

Out.

In…

Out.

The world shifted around him, and the stiff wind beat against his ears like a drum. His body groaned again over the pain coursing through him. He attempted to ignore the lingering aches as he got up and limped towards the creature, wobbling inelegantly on his way up. He tumbled into a sit a few feet away and stared at it through the stormy fog for a few minutes. It didn’t move, but it was alive. 

It was alive. It had a pulse. That thought made the butterflies in his stomach flutter. He had never encountered another life in the tundra before this. No fauna, or even a single insect. Never, ever. He couldn’t tell if he was happy or terrified. His mind focused on the injuries, and the possibility of his one chance at a companion on the verge of dying, and his anxiety increased tenfold. 

He quickly crawled over to it and ran a shaky hand over its body, looking for injuries, and felt lacerations peppered throughout the compact fur. He didn’t exactly know what to do in this situation now. No injuries he sustained were ever as bad as this. He decided to try his best with his limited knowledge and began with taking off one pelt he was going to use as a pouch and tore into it using a knife to cut it into pieces. The cuts were messy, but usable for what he aimed to do. He started with the large cut on its arm, wrapping the pelt piece tightly around the wound, and continued working downwards, ignoring the smaller cuts. Having come up short a few pieces, it left two large cuts on its calf open, but he hoped that this wouldn’t be enough to make it bleed out. The cuts on its stomach were too large to cover with the cuts he made. Blood continued to leak freely from its body, although at a much smaller amount than before. He had no way to clean the blood off its fur. Even at his home, he hoped that the bloodstains or clinging snow won’t harm it. 

Now the problem came down to what to do with it. It was still alive, but should he actually try to bring it back to his home? It could be dangerous. He assumed it had some kind of intelligence, based on its humanoid appearance, but what if it wasn’t? What if it killed him as soon as it woke up? What if it never wakes up?

He eventually decided to make the attempt. Even if it perished on the way, he’d at least be able to use the cadaver for meat and more pelts. He reached down, grabbed the wrists of the beast-thing and tried his best to swing its body onto his back. He wasn’t the strongest he could be, but his time in the storm had certainly hardened him. It took a few moments for him to stabilize himself and get used to the unfamiliar weight on his back. Despite being smaller than him, it remained bar none the largest object he’d ever attempted to bring back. Previously, all he needed to carry back was a pelt-full of berries and occasionally, firewood. Something this large had never attempted by him. Nevertheless, he was on his way within a few minutes. His trek back was going to be a while, several hours more than usual at the very least. Similar to the walk there, but at an even slower pace. He would bring none of the usual findings back, having completely forgotten about his original goal, and focused all of his attention on saving this strange creature. Straining under the weight of its body, he could feel blood seep into the clothes on his back. He moved in long strides to quicken the pace over his impaired movement.

He walked past the familiar tree, as scarred as it had been since he began the trips. This time, however, he paid little attention to it as he moved his way through the trees and into the bleak tundra. The walk was long and tiresome. The storm had been going as strong as it had been for as long as he could remember. It never changes. The journey was unique this time, though. Each step felt more and more strenuous as the weight on his back took a toll on him. The creature lay limp on him, and Alton felt its heartbeat against his back. A reliving, albeit scary, acknowledgement that it’s still alive. Regardless, the journey became as automated as his previous walks back. He let his body take control of the direction as he focused on not falling over from the weight of the beast.

It had been about five hours since he began the walk back. Alton guessed that his cave-home should’ve been no more than ten minutes away, but it was all a guess. He couldn’t tell time anymore. Like a sundial in the dark, the constant storm brought little to no sense of passing time to Alton. Any estimates he makes were based on his own perception of time passing, and it’s often inaccurate. Time slows, but it never speeds to Alton. What feels like days could go by in straight daylight in the tundra. Nighttimes could go on for what feels like days. It messes with him, like a hungry boy staring up at an apple hanging just out of reach.

The thoughts left his mind as the mouth of the cave came into sight. It sat on a hill, but that should be no problem. He made this trip many times. He’d be used to it. The ascent began smoothly, but his tired legs and the beast on his back made it much harder than it should be. Step after step made his already-tired legs feel like gelatin. His legs eventually gave way under the mass on his back. He plopped face-first into the snow, sliding down the slight hill a few feet. The entirety of his body screamed in exhaustion, eventually being overtaken by the ice numbing his exposed skin. In his tired state, he tried clambering up the hill, to minimal effect. 

He gave up after a short time and let the cold seep in as he relaxed his limbs in the bed of white. He tried his hardest to regain energy, despite the snow puncturing him as if he became surrounded by thousands of tiny needles. Minutes passed by as he settled in the cold, unmoving like the burdensome weight on his back. Each passing minute, that weight becomes more and more unbearable for him. 

He adjusted the weight and got on his knees and crawled as his body screamed in cold sleepiness. There wasn’t anything for him to grab onto beyond hard snow, and the load on his back kept slipping from his grasp. He tried going back on his legs, but like before, the strain proved too much for him. The fall wasn’t harsh, though he took the brunt of it. Pain coursed through every nerve of his body as he attempted to get back up. Alton grasped any part of the hill he could get a hold on and he pulled himself up. All the while, his arms and legs and fingers screamed in pain. He felt them attempt to pull themselves from the sockets and run away, or shrivel up and dissolve right off the bone, or freeze in time. 

He came back to why he bothered. Not just this, but… everything. Living here. Going to the forest. Bringing back the beast. 

Why? He asked himself that over and over as he attempted to reach his home, but no answer crossed his mind. Maybe he could get one, if he pushed himself, but there were no actual answers to what he asked. Like a door opening to a labyrinth of more doors, only more questions appeared. Each one demanded a different answer, none of which he had. The thoughts made his mind twist and twirl. He hated it, but they never escaped him.

At some point, he just decided that he should do this, whatever it took. Because right now, right here, there was another living being, and that was enough. 

The cycle of crawling up a few feet, sliding down out of a lack of stamina, and crawling up a few more feet repeated until he felt the hard floor of the cave. A long sigh of relief left Alton as he moved into the dark inside of his home. Pelts lay unorganized around the cave, with most of them being storage and one particular pile used as bedding. A giant pile of firewood sits just barely visible in the corner, enough to last him a long time, a result of him seldom bothering to start fires in recent months. A wave of relief-induced fatigue washed over him as he laid on the icy floor, as if all his energy dissipated with the snow.

Once he regained a little of his strength, he hobbled over to the bedding and gingerly set the beast down on it, resulting in a quiet thud echoing through the small hollow. He hoped its backside didn’t get into too much pain at the small drop. Although it did not react to the fall. 

Alton rubbed the exhaustion out of his eyes as he glanced towards the outside. The low evening light cast a gloomy mist across the cave. He grabbed a few pieces of firewood, placed it close to the center of the site, near the beast but not too close, and struck a small fire. The fire flickered bright orange colors against the grey walls, melting the ice and exposing how poorly he bandaged the beast. Blood had seeped all over its fur, and all over his own body as well, creating a rancid scent all over his home. Some bandages had also fallen off during the walk back, with exposed scars where the bandages used to be. Regardless of the mess, he reached down and placed a finger in the neck, relieved to feel a small pulsation.

He stood back and took in the sight of it. Now that he was out of the snowstorm’s risk, he could get a better view of his new roommate. He didn’t know what animal it looked like for sure. It had been a very long time since he’d seen any other life, but the snout and ears on its head gave off a distinct canine-like appearance. The humanoid figure, however, told a different story. It looked more like the Monsters in the stories he read as a child. Unnatural, inhuman creatures who hunted the people of the village. The name escaped him, but the memory burned into his mind. 

It hadn’t woken up yet, but its face seemed a little less painfully distorted than before. The moist fur of its body had dried, leaving dark red stains encrusted on the pale fluff. Alton would have to wash the mess off, but he never needed to wash off something so disheveled before. The blood was everywhere. On the pelts, all over the floor, all over the beast and himself. So much so that Alton didn’t know how the beast was even alive. Either way, that would be an issue for later. Besides not having the resources for any form of cleaning, he was too tired to seek any out. 

He took off the heavy layers of his pelt attire and set them down to the side. He looked around for other, more usable pelts, but he couldn’t find any. The ones he usually used were under the beast. He was too tired to find an alternative, so he sat on the floor, planning to use the cold and bloody pelt as a pillow. Even with the stains, the pelts were better than the cold, hard ground. It was, at least, some form of comfort. Before laying down, a revelation dawned on him: was it really safe to sleep with the beast in the cave? Would it attack him when or if it woke up? 

Perhaps when he woke up, the beast would’ve left the cave, having disappeared into the storm. Even if that happened, what would he do then? Would he search for it, or let it go?  
All he could do was take the chance and wait. Injuries littered its body, and if it became violent, it wouldn’t be difficult to fend off. He laid his head on the sodden pelt, replaying in his mind the loop of paranoia-induced thoughts and thin reassurances over the beast. Despite being more uncomfortable than normal, his eyes never felt heavier, and he drifted into a dream, the only true escape from the numbing madness.

The cave fell apart around him, reforming as a dreamy landscape he couldn’t recognize. He heard blood dripping onto the cracks in the dark-colored wooden floor and felt his flesh crawl as he got up from the ground. The room was almost empty, with only a large hole in the wall, being filled with the dead body of the Monster he had killed, and the door, with its hinges locked tightly shut. He walked over and stared down at the dead Monster. Her body covered in a thin layer of dust and ash from the flames that devoured her, shadowing her once pure white fur.

He turned to look away from the corpse of the Monster in the hole. It had been so alive, so whole. Her face twisted in a visage of terror. He had heard that she had been so strong. Not heard, seen! He saw the Monster! He had heard the Monster laugh that night. It wasn’t as strong as the tales people told of her. She was small and weak in her prime, but she still had endurance surpassing everyone he knew. He could not kill this, he had not killed the Monster, even if it looked like she was dead. No, he could not keep her dead.

“It’s not enough,” she said, her voice echoing in the hole as she spoke. “What is it I am doing? Do I care how I die? What has been done to me? Who killed me? I am the thing that killed Them.”

Alton couldn’t hear what she was saying. He moved away from her, before tripping and falling into the void below him.

The surrounding space warped away before he did. It was as if he was falling, and felt himself being pulled away into the black hole. He could see the dark, twisting edges that lay beyond it as he moved forward into a small, tight hole.  
“There’s nothing,” he said. “I killed you.”

“You’re lying,” she said. The warp faded away a little more. In the light, he could see the faint silhouette of her looking down upon him as he continued falling into the void. He had not meant to take her with him, so she had had time to prepare herself for this final act. “The only things here are the walls.”

“What?”

“You can’t see the ground,” she replied. “You’re still falling, and the walls will catch you and trap you.” She was right, he realized, as he fell deeper into the dark. The void sapped the rest of his strength, and he knew his time was almost up. She grew farther, but remained close at the same time, like she didn’t want to leave him. And then, just before the walls caught and trapped him like an insect to a flytrap, the sound of the air rushing past him made him stop.

He could feel his body, no longer free to move, no longer able to see, as the air rushed past in a slow, rhythmic sound. “It stops,” the Monster said. “When the sound stops, you fall down.” Then she turned to leave him, as the air reached out to drag him down. “I’ll catch you when you stop,” she said as her voice grew more and more distant. With a last, echoing cry, she disappeared. The air became a river that swept him downstream and up, and soon disappeared, leaving him floating and staring at the fading remains of the riverbank.  
All while the river flowed around him, and only now did he realize he was still wearing his shirt, the blood still on it. The current moved around him and carried his body back to the shore. 

But it never came, he found himself in the room again instead. Degraded wooden furniture and old hanging oil lamps were all that remained. The sky looked black through the rotting wood, and he could see only the tip of the moon’s light peeking through the edge of the roof. The Monster was gone, and so was the hole. Nothing but a scarred reminder of its presence remained.

The door was still, and as he stepped up and looked through the grimy window, he could see the moon and stars glimmering. In the distance a great city, glowing brilliantly with flames, appeared down the hill. Orange and yellow figures danced frantically about like ballerinas putting on a show. Some flew into the air and exploded in a grand crescendo, and others fell to the ground, letting the skin consume itself. The sight made his heart beat faster and faster. It hurt, like someone was drilling a hole right through his chest, and causing him to stumble back and onto the floor. He couldn’t bear looking through the window any longer. A clicking sound echoed from across the room, followed by a slow creak. The sound of the door. He couldn’t see who stood there beyond a black, indescribable shadow, but he knew who it was.

“Hello? Are you there?”

Her voice was hoarse, and she remained in the door’s shadow, as if she feared confronting him. He didn’t respond to her. Nothing. Not even a small whisper. His lips pushed closed as if he was trying to swallow a painful lump that he could feel pressing against his throat. He had to get out of here. To escape her. Scramble away and scream for help into the night.

“Hello?” She croaked out again. 

No response. 

“I’m sorry for making you afraid of it.” Faint traces of sorrow trickled through her voice as she spoke to him. He didn’t know whether she was trying to talk him out of his fear or trying to make him believe in it more. He still didn’t respond, and she was well aware why. “And I’m sorry for making you afraid of me. I’m an abomination. To you, and to everyone I meet. I’m sorry, I really am.”

The door creaked open. She was entering. A rush of adrenaline coursed through him as he scrambled away from the door, nearly knocking over the chair in the process. He didn’t want to face her. That’s what he feared the most. Facing her and having to talk to her about what happened. He wanted to run away. To have his fears beaten back and cowardice satisfied. 

Just before she came into his view, the landscape around him blurred, and the void turned to physical colors and shapes. Colors and shapes he recognized, and hated. The faint, early morning light shined past the snowstorm and into the cave, as Alton lifted his head and rubbed his eyes. Morning in the cave. Like every morning here, dull and empty. Although, he was much more sore than the usual morning and the dream-

His tired thoughts were interrupted as his eyes met the blue irises of the beast from across the cave. Its face twisted into a fearful expression as it huddled against the wall, and the stubby ears on its head flattened. The previously dampened and matted fur puffed back up under the dry blood, and the pelts seemed to be on the verge of falling off.

Neither of them said a word as Alton sat up. They both simply stared at each other. Was it even capable of speaking? Did it understand English, or any other language? Alton didn’t know. It hardly moved since he woke up, barring the occasional twitch of the ear or adjustment of its arms. All it appeared to do was gaze at Alton with eyes as big as saucers. It gave no indication of any intelligence, nor aggression, but Alton remained on edge.

Alton tried his best to ignore the beast’s piercing glare as he reached over and grabbed a poorly wrapped pelt. When he grabbed the bag, the ears of the beast perked up, and its eyes tracked his hand as he placed it on the ground in front of him. The pelt contained a few handfuls of small, red berries. They had no name, he never thought of one, nor had he needed a name for them. They served a purpose in this life. That was all that mattered to Alton. He plucked a few from the top and popped them in his mouth. Chewing and swallowing quickly, he cringed as the pungent flavor infested his taste buds. Alton did not know what they actually were. All he knew was that he’d grown to hate the taste of them, but there wasn’t any other food source available there. No meat, no vegetables, not even a bug to snack on. It was all he had. For all he knew, they could have been slowly killing him this whole time and he would’ve had no idea.

Slowly grabbing more off the top, he continued eating, trying his best to ignore the taste. Even so, he couldn’t keep his focus on the abhorrence. The beast, like a beacon in the night, kept all of his attention drawn. Unmoving since he woke up, only its piercing gaze showed it wasn’t a statue. But for the first time since waking up, he saw the beast’s eyes break away from his and lock onto the pile of berries. It stared at the small pile with an intense look, as if it hadn’t eaten in days.

He reached down and used the back of his hand to push the pile closer to it, in an effort to get it to eat some of them. Deep, throaty grumbles left the beast’s mouth as his hand approached it. The sound came unexpectedly to Alton, given its small stature and weak appearance. 

The growling quieted down as he distanced himself, leaving only the beast’s thoughts. It deliberated over not just the berries, but everything. Where it was, it didn’t know. It had woken up for only a few moments in a forest amidst a snowstorm, bloody and beaten to near death, before blacking out again. When it tried to remember what happened, nothing came. Not a single recollection of what occurred before that moment, nor what its life was like before waking up there. Its mind was nothing but a murky cloud of snow and fog. Vague memories sat on the tip of its tongue, like they were behind a foggy glass door with no way of getting in. The colorful images swirl on the other side, but it had no access to them. The beast grew frustrated at the thought. 

It looked down at the pile. It didn’t know if those were safe to eat. 

The strange man was eating them. So it had to be safe, right? It reassured itself through its hazy mind. Bringing its snout down and sniffing the berries, no odd smells stood out to the beast, but it would never know until it ate one. Regardless, it was willing to take the risk. That or starving to death.

It grabbed a single berry from the top and eyed the red sphere. Its mouth was dry, it didn’t want to eat, but it’s body screamed for sustenance. The feelings of slight sickness at the berries were made worse with the noticeably negative reaction Alton made at the taste. It brought the berry up to its mouth and bit down. The taste of the small berry infested its mouth. Instantly, the beast gagged and spat the half-chewed foodstuff onto the floor. Looking back up to Alton, from the sight of the berries, the two sat in silence once again. It couldn’t bear even looking at the berries anymore. The sight made its stomach twist and turn. 

Alton broke away from the gaze of the beast and tried to find something to take his mind off of the intimidating being. He tried to focus on the features of the cave. The light speckles of anomalous snow from the storm enters the cave, only to disappear out of thin air. It never settled into the cave. Even with no fire, the snow dissolved and returned to the air before it reached the ground.

The beast turned away from the berries, towards the mouth of the cave. There weren’t any shackles or chains preventing it from leaving. Despite its condition, it was tempted to leave. The cave was so claustrophobic. It hated being here. It hated the sickly berries on the floor. It hated the injuries on its body. And it hated staring at the man from across the room. Though, it didn’t know what was outside of the cave. Whatever attacked and nearly killed it could still be lurking out there. Somewhere. 

Leaving the comfort of the blood-soaked pelts and standing up, it stumbled back a bit and whimpered slightly at the pain coursing through its sore body. Despite the pain, the hole to the outside was too tempting to leave alone, so it continued on, leaning against the wall to alleviate some of the throbbing pain. Stepping to the exit, it looked out towards the storm with a curious gleam in its eyes, although it was impossible to see anything outside because of the morning fog. It’s so thick. Not even the sharp eyes of the beast could see through to snow at the bottom of the hill. It only broke away when its head snapped towards Alton in an instant, as it heard him let out a few dry coughing sounds, before speaking.

“I wouldn’t…” A series of coughs interrupted his words. “... recommend leaving. The storm is almost impossible for you to navigate clearly. You’ll die out there.”

The words pained Alton as they came. He couldn’t remember the last time he spoke, he’s long since forgotten the sound of his voice. It sounded like it came from a different person. This world was devoid of life besides himself, prior to the discovery of the beast. The storm had no ears to listen to his words, nor mouth to respond, beyond the sound of wind and snow. And truth be told, Alton was anxious after talking, a feeling exacerbated by the blank expression the beast responded with. He couldn’t tell if the beast could understand his words. Like talking to a statue, it stood and stared at him. The only sign that it was alive was the shifting of its ears when it heard his voice, but nothing more. 

Alton breathed a subtle sigh of relief as the beast seemed to acknowledge his words, sitting down clumsily at the mouth just before the grey cave met the snow. It stared out towards nothing. He didn’t know what it was looking at, beyond the vast emptiness of the fog. Although, it’s not like he hadn’t spent days at a time staring out there in that exact spot it’s in, looking at only at the monochrome fog.

The silence grew once again, but this time, the beast was looking in the opposite direction. The sound felt no different from any other day in the cave. It was almost as if the beast wasn’t even there in the first place. This would go on for another dozen minutes. It felt uncomfortably familiar to Alton. There was another living, breathing creature in his cave, yet the atmosphere felt no different from before. Minutes upon minutes of droning silence engulfed the two of them as he fidgeted slightly on his side of the cave. He thought about trying to speak to it again. It looked like it understood what he said earlier, to some extent, so why not try it again? 

He opened his mouth for a moment, but no words came out, unsure of how to approach it. The cogs had begun to move in his head. What questions should he ask? Something simple, for sure, but every question he could think of seemed too complex or overwhelming, and the rest were too out of reach. Right on the tip of his tongue. The more he thought of saying something, the more he felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, like he was witnessing a tornado approaching him. He felt it through his heart as it began beating faster. Why was he so stressed over this? It was so simple to say those words earlier, so why now? He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to know the answer to those questions right now. He had other things to think about. Trying his best to calm himself down, a few reassuring thoughts passed through his head; alright, alright, Alton. Calm down. Start off with the most basic question you can think of.

“So… y-you got a name?” 

It stared at him with an odd gaze, the only indication it even acknowledged what he said was its ears swerving slightly at his voice. Its eyes began shifting up and down his body, attempting to analyze every inch of him, and read the intent behind him. 

“Can… you talk?” 

Again, it only returned its gaze. He felt awkward speaking again, especially when he’s talking to something that had so far refused to respond to him, but he pressed on, if only just to kill time. Unlike the past days, his mind was going a thousand miles a minute. Not by the snow, or the cave, or the fire. By the beast, and he needed something to help suppress himself. At least trying to talk was a mold breaker, and his only idea of calming down. 

It broke its stare to look towards the ground. It’s canine-like facial features were difficult for Alton to read, but it looked like it was deep in thought. Minutes passed. It kept staring at the ground, its ears going from upright to flattening slightly, then back up. Almost mechanically.

A few more minutes passed, and he accepted that it likely couldn’t, or wouldn’t, talk. Even if it could understand him, its continuous silence gave no sign it had the ability or desire to respond. The thought made his heart sink a little. Still, some figure to talk to beyond his own shadow was enough for him, and he continued on.

“Y’know, you’re the first I’ve seen in a while. Well, actually you’re the only life I’ve seen per-“

“Where am I?” It said as it cut Alton off, through its same hard-to-read glare. The abruptness of its question made him jump. It had a surprisingly feminine voice, and its articulation was crystal clear, almost as if it was coming straight from a human, despite the face of an animal, with a snout and all. A contrast from the distinct canine-like grumbles and growls it targeted towards him earlier. It also had a distinct accent compared to his voice. Much more posh and clean than his. It sounded familiar to Alton. Not necessarily it’s accent, but the voice. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it, though. The way it said it’s words, the euphonic sounds of the syllables just brought back hazy memories in the back of his mind. Ones that weren’t quite there, that he might confuse as a dream. 

Those three words, said in less than a second, felt like a strange rush of relief to him.

Having his earlier thoughts completely thrown out of his mind, all he could do was stare blankly at the beast for a few seconds. His mind was too busy processing what it said to respond. Finally remembering he needed to say something, he couldn’t help but stutter out a few incoherent words before he bothered responding.

“You’re… in a cave.”

The beast didn’t respond to his answer, nor did it react, but before it could even respond with anything, Alton barrelled out more words. 

“W-wait! You can talk? Who are you? Do you have a name?”

The beast didn’t respond to his questions, opting instead to acknowledge only the previous answer. “A cave?” It paused for a few seconds before continuing, “where?”

Alton stumbled out a few incoherent syllables in confusion. “I-I’m not sure. All there is out there is snow for as far as I can see.”

It glanced out to the endless opening, before turning its head back towards the wall, looking near, but not right at him. “Is there a way out? To leave this place?”

A way out? Alton never attempted to leave. The furthest he’s gone was the forest. Never more. It’s not that he didn’t want to leave, rather, the thought of leaving never crossed his mind. 

“I…“ His voice trailed off.

“I...don’t know.” He responded, wanting to bring up its choice of words, but he couldn’t think of a way to articulate it in the moment. He also didn’t want to make it feel uncomfortable.

The beast looked away from the wall, to nowhere in particular. The silence came back and festered in the air. Alton wanted to continue the conversation, but the beast seemed to disagree. Its ears flattened slightly, and it wore a conflicted face as it stared at the cave floor. Minutes pass, and neither of them moves an inch. His own thoughts were all Alton was left with, he tried to get the beast out of it, but it’s presence infested his senses. Like a moth to a flame, his eyes stayed drawn to the figure, completely enchanted by its presence. The beast continued staring at the cave floor, it’s eyes, though not looking at him, kept piercing into his mind. Its paws wrapped around its legs, and its claws seemed to be digging past the fur and into the skin of its knees. It looked painful, and Alton was certain he saw slight amounts of blood leaking around its claws.

Alton couldn’t tear his eyes away from it, but he couldn’t. He wanted to move, to feel anything in his body, but he couldn’t, and he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the freezing cold of the morning, or the odd captivation of the beast. He wanted to speak to it, or even scream to it. Just anything to hear its voice again. And he did speak, but only a whispered word. Right above his own breath, not loud enough for it to hear, not even loud enough for him to comprehend what he was saying. The beast, even through its complete silence, was the only thing he could hear besides his own breathing and the pounding of his heart. 

He forced his eyes away from the odd creature, which was harder than he thought. Looking away left his eyes longing to glance back to the beast, almost like a magnet, and closing his eyes left an imprint of its silhouette on his eyelids. The deafening silence didn’t help either, although it soon gave way to a noise, barely louder than his own whisper, that made him jump.

“Nyx.”

He stopped listening to his own thoughts, all of which gone from his mind from the small startle. Instead turning his attention to the opposite side of the cave. Towards the mouth, towards the beast.

“My name’s...Nyx.”

“Oh. That’s… a nice name.”

Nyx. It had an oddly alluring ring to it. 

“I’m… I’m Alton, by the way.” He said as he gestured towards himself. The beast, or Nyx, let out a quiet grunt of acknowledgement in response, but didn’t push the topic further. 

Nyx stayed silent, but stood up, wobbling clumsily along the way. With one hand leaning against the wall as support, it limped back towards the pile of pelts Alton formerly called his bed, now too stained with foreign blood to be his. In its small trek back, it kept its sky-blue eyes locked with Alton the whole time with what looked like a distrustful look behind them. Even as it settled down against the wall, it judged every inch of him, waiting to see if he moved. And like before, Alton and Nyx just sat and stared at each other. Not talking, simply taking in information about the other through their eyes. This continued for a while, and it didn’t take long for Nyx to drift off to sleep again. Despite the amount of stress it seemed to go through, Nyx looked so tired. It laid down only a few minutes after walking back, not saying a word, but maintaining shaky eye-contact with him. It was almost comical how it struggled to keep its eyes open only minutes before succumbing to sleep, leaving Alton alone. For now.

Now that Nyx was fast asleep, or at least it seemed asleep, Alton felt that this was the time to leave and forage for more food and supplies. After all, he missed his chance initially, with Nyx appearing out of nowhere in the forest. He stood up and began collecting the supplies for the journey, quietly, so as to not wake it. The compass, a knife, and a few bags to keep things in, the same supplies he’s taken for every trip out there. He stuffed them all into the random crevices of his clothes before putting the heavier jacket over his body. Before leaving, he took one last look at Nyx. It’s fast asleep on the pelts he used as a bed for years. And for the first time since he had seen it, it looked to be content. No fearful or judgemental expression plastered on its face. Only, what Alton hoped, was a sleeping face with no pain behind it.

With a quick glance at his compass to make sure he was going the right way, he was off to the forest again. Alone, like usual. It felt different this time, however. His mind didn’t shut off while his body continued into the snow. His mind was overflowing with thoughts of Nyx. What was it? He’d seen nothing like it here. He’d, in fact, never seen another soul out here before this. It was only him until this moment, and that spooked him a bit. Does this mean there could be more like it? More intelligent life? Would he find another on this journey? He couldn’t reassure himself any more than a maybe, but the thought of finding more life excited him as he stepped into the storm.

Through the empty storm, vague images of his dream came back to him. It was all too fuzzy to remember well. Blurry stills of a decrepit room shuffled in and out of his mind as he strained his conscience to force himself to remember the rest of it. The most stark fragment of memory was a figure. He couldn’t remember much of it, but the grey-white color of its fur. Or was it pure white? It was all too fragmented for him, he couldn’t discern anything from the dream. All different pieces of an unfinished puzzle, but still, he couldn’t help but repeat the few parts he remembered. Over and over. It brought a strange feeling he couldn’t name. Some odd combination of different emotions brought stronger with each repeat. The thoughts and repeats frustrated him a little. He wanted closure, but it consistently escaped him. He wanted to remember it all, to feel what it was like to experience that dream again, no matter how nightmarish it was.

He continued down into the path, as memories continued swirling in his mind. The edge of the forest soon came into view. The same untouched forest it had always been. He trudged past the snow and into the trees, but came to a halt as his eyes landed on the bloody mess made yesterday. 

It hadn’t gone away. The tracks, the bloody trail, it was all still there. The sight made a rush of weak pain course through his chest. It laid unchanged in the snow. Even his own tracks from that day, beginning at the first tree of the forest, were still present. Like a photo taken in the moment, it brought memories of yesterday back. It morphed into anticipation, and his mind began racing with possibilities at the sight. What if there really was another? Nyx couldn’t be the only one. Why would there be just one? 

Anxious excitement welled up in his throat as he trudged past yesterday’s disaster and deeper into the forest. The snow thickened in the deeper parts, but that didn’t deter him. He started deep into the forest for any sign of life. He never went this far previously, he never took the chance for fear of getting lost, but now that idea was gone from his mind. There was more. More of Nyx. There had to be. 

There had to be.

He continued deeper. Nothing but a bleak, snowy forest. All the same. No sign of any changes. His excitement fizzled out at the sight. 

No life anywhere in sight. Only snow, fog, and trees for miles all around. 

Finding the resources wasn’t hard. The berry bushes were peppered throughout the forest and didn’t have leaves. How they stayed alive and produced food was a mystery to Alton. Regardless, finding the berries were all that mattered to him at that moment.

He crouched next to a leafless bush and plucked a few from the branches. The small, red spheres look unnaturally live against the near-dead, snow-covered bush. He bundled the findings in a bag and stuffed it into his jacket. He didn’t worry about plucking too many, the berries always seemed to come back when he returned. A few more spaced out bushes gave him a few bags worth, which was his best guess as to what was enough for him and Nyx. 

He finally had what he came here for. A quick double check of his belongings, just to make sure nothing fell out, and he was en route to the edge of the forest, and a specific tree he knew all too well. 

It didn’t take long for it to appear. He knew this place like the back of his hand, and knew exactly where the scarred tree was, and exactly where to go after the fact. He scanned the scars on the bark for a clean spot. It was hard to make any notable marks now. Looking up and down the tree, he saw it brimming with memoirs of his journeys to the woods. He looked up and down the tree. The taller half of the trunk was left untouched. He was too short to reach it, and the markings he had made ended abruptly.

He couldn’t think of any other places, but a quick glance at an adjacent tree gave him another idea. 

New tree. New era, of sorts.

Something like that. 

He stepped up to the tree and stabbed his knife into it. A motion upward permanently marked a generic indent vertically into the bark. He stepped back to admire it. It felt special to him. Why? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it’s because it aligns with a brand new person in his life. Or maybe it’s because of an odd emotional attachment he had with the other marks. 

With one last look towards the new tree, and one to the older scarred tree, he started off into the snowy fog. The trip back was mentally exhausting, even with the temporary distraction of the tree. The lack of life in the forest reappeared in his mind. Nyx being the only other being there was something he didn’t want to accept. He didn’t know why, he should be happy. Nyx was a first, but he strived for more. In an odd sense, he was discontent with only Nyx, and wanted another to show up. He felt like a poor man who struck gold. A one in a million chance, and his brain craved for more. Nyx barely knew him. Hell, it may have just outright hated him for all he knew, but the thought of finally having another living soul to talk to was exhilarating. 

He wasn’t sure why he even thought there would be more life to begin with. What would’ve implied another being there? The tracks made by him and Nyx? He felt stupid in retrospect, and he wanted to forget he even thought about it. And he tried, but it was hard, he couldn’t do it. He tried thinking of everything but what happened, but it always kept crawling back. The thoughts of his foolish actions kept replaying in his mind, much like his dream earlier. 

The thoughts clouded his mind, and continued to do so before the cave, his home, came into view. The grey walls and blood-covered floor looked no different from before. As he exited the coldness of the icy storm into the slightly warmer cave, he saw Nyx lightly jump at the sight of him. Despite being obviously startled, it didn’t huddle in fear up to the wall nearly as much as it did before. In fact, it seemed slightly comforted at his return. Or maybe it’s simply not as scared as before. Having taken off its bandages, neatly laying them on the floor against the cave wall, it left itself with only fluff and dry blood as covering. Interestingly, or perhaps strangely, Alton couldn’t spot any of the injuries it had sustained the previous day, only bloody reminders. It had also started another fire, with more firewood than Alton would have wanted it to use. It mattered little to him though, any warmth was good warmth, regardless of how many resources used. He set the pelts down against the wall and sat across from Nyx, in the same position as before. 

“I brought back more food.” He said tiredly, “should last us a while.”

Nyx stayed silent and refused eye contact. It opted to stare straight at the ground, until it finally looked towards the bags, tilting its head slightly at the sight. No words came, but it’s interesting stare didn’t go unnoticed by Alton. He shrugged at the motion. “Not hungry often, but I took more back this time for you.”

It looked at him silently for a few seconds, before nodding lightly and looking away. Like before, it didn’t seem to look at anything specific, just lost in thought.

Alton laid down with his head on the same dirty pelts he slept on the night before. He was tired after spending hours outside, and Nyx didn’t look to be in the mood to talk. A good rest would do him wonders. Well, good may be an overstatement. The floor was cold and hurt his back. But it was the best option available.

He tried his hardest to get comfortable as he stared at the ceiling of the cave. The cold gently nipping at his face, a feeling he’s long since grown numb to, and laid there for what felt like hours before falling asleep. All he heard were the sounds of the fire and outside wind blowing. Nyx stayed completely silent. Not saying a word, nor moving an inch. And for the first time since meeting it, Nyx was completely out of his mind. It was only him, and his slow daze into sleep. He didn’t truly know how long it took for him to drift off, he never did, but it didn’t matter. The hazy dreamscape was always a welcome escape for him, regardless of the time of day.

But he didn’t dream that day, and the next few days went the same, minus the walk down to the forest. Sitting and staring out to the wind, interrupted by the rare conversations between him and Nyx, short as they may be. But none of the words led to anything of significance. Otherwise, it was like before. Alton was all too familiar to this routine, sitting in complete silence, letting the cold sink into his skin. Although it wasn’t right with another breathing soul with him. He stopped bringing it up in his mind, or at least to the best of his abilities. No use in thinking about thoughts and questions with no end. 

Today was no special day either. Sitting in silence, like before. The food supply diminished much quicker now that two mouths were getting fed, and Alton would need to go again soon, maybe in the next few days. The silence continued, until he heard a high-pitched voice, one he still has yet to familiarize himself with.

“Is this all?”

With a puzzled look at what it meant, Alton looked up at Nyx. He saw it wore a similar expression, as if it wasn’t sure of what it was saying.

“Just sitting and doing nothing?” It added.

His mind went blank at the questions, “well, there’s… not a whole lot to do otherwise.”

Nyx looked away from him, taking a moment to collect its thoughts. It stayed that way for a few minutes, before turning its head back towards him, as if it wanted to say more, but like the past days, left the conversation unfinished. Another few mumbling words left its mouth, none Alton could hear, before cutting itself off into silence again.

“Why do you ask?” Alton said.

It stayed silent, but it was clear it wanted to respond to him. 

“I…” Nyx couldn’t articulate the words. It stuttered out a few more sounds before silencing itself, and it stayed that way for what felt like hours. The deafening silence hit Alton like a train, like when he first saw Nyx awake.

“I don’t know.” was all it responded with before asking it’s own question, “how… long have you been here?”

He shrugged, “a long time.” 

Absolute disbelief laid across its face as it stared at him. It couldn’t, or refused, to understand what he had been doing all these years, as if it was trying to grasp anything in a haze of emotion and anticipation at what the future could lead to. It broke its stare as its face was forced back to a neutral expression like it was trying to hide its contemplation from Alton.

“Nyx.” Alton said, and then, after a long moment, it turned its head.

The thin pupils of Nyx’s eyes hinted at wanting to talk more, but it didn’t, and as it turned its head away from him, it whispered something under its breath. None of the words were clear enough for Alton to hear. That was the last Alton heard of it that day, and for the next few days. Complete silence, just like before, just like the rest of the days. He didn’t bother talking, what did he have to say to it? Nothing of use. Nothing that could spin into something more than a few words. Nothing that would make it feel any safer here. He could ask what it whispered, but why would he days later? 

So he kept quiet, like the previous years.


End file.
